to speak, perchance to be heard

moving pillows

I’m surprised that I have never written about this before, but there’s life, always surprising.

I’m in the process of moving a lot of things around at the moment. I just got a new computer, so I’m trying to move the old files onto the new one. Basically that’s done, except for my old email files. I don’t usually use gmail, which, I know, would have been sooo easy. So that will get done, eventually. I tried to do it two different ways, but neither one let me in. “Remember where you put this file”, it said. I thought I did. It doesn’t want to recognize it.

At this point, it will have to wait until after Shabbat. I will just have to respond only to the people who write me. Not a problem, really, for the next few hours.

And, of course, I’m still moving around all the toys that I find in all corners of the house, plus odd toothbrushes, hairbrushes, etc., left by the children and the children’s children. Nothing major, as of yet. But I’m not doing the laundry of all the sheets until Sunday, so I’m sure I’ll find more things then.

And there’s the food; using up the leftovers and starting the process of cooking again. That’s the hardest part to be inspired for the last days. On Simchat Torah, we usually just have the simplest of foods, but we’re following with Shabbat, which means

oh probably the simplest of foods redux. No inspiration here.

And, of course, there’s the thousands of tablecloths, towels, dish towels, that do need laundering for use for the last days of Yom Tov. That’s moving from here to there, with a great big difference when they’re actually clean.

But what’s this about pillows?

Years ago, when I was going to Israel with a group for the year, I was instantly and profoundly amused by a scene that I witnessed at the airport. There was an older father accompanying his daughter as she was preparing to go on the group flight. I would learn later that he was a Holocaust survivor, but it was clear by the interaction that he was, how we should put it, old school. And the airline was El Al, for any of you who have flown that wonderful airline (which I would always prefer to fly, if I could afford it).

So the problem was that my soon-to-be friend was surpassing her baggage limit. The Israeli clerk behind the counter informed them the bags were too heavy. Again and again. The solution? Simple!

Here come the pillows. She had a pillow attached on the outside of each suitcase with a heavy rope. My mind does not recall if there were more than 2 pillow accompanying more than 2 suitcases, but let’s go with the 2 for now.

“No problem! We’ll take care of it right away.”

And he did, by moving the pillows from the top of the suitcase to the side.

Ms. El Al: “That doesn’t make any difference!”

Mr. Holocaust survivor: “Oh, we’ll fix it”, moving the pillows to the other side of the suitcase.

Ms. EA: “That’s still no different!”

M HS, doing it again, with the pillows: “Now it’s better, yes?”

Well, you can figure out that I’m in hysterics and the EA lady is ready to go back to Tel Aviv, ASAP. And, of course, she gives up and lets them through.

Pretty smart, huh?

I wish we could get away with that today, but it still works for a great metaphor for my life.